


dessert

by 10redplums



Series: dragons campaign [3]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Dungeons & Dragons - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Oral Sex, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:27:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27697597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/10redplums/pseuds/10redplums
Summary: “Come to bed with me,” Isteval says, putting a hand on Armand’s knee. His palm is blazing hot through the fabric of Armand’s pants.the events immediately following "priest, soldier, man"
Relationships: player character/npc
Series: dragons campaign [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2018047
Kudos: 1
Collections: Banned Together Bingo 2020





	dessert

**Author's Note:**

> I used cunt/entrance/folds for Armand's genitalia so if that's not your cup of tea it is what it is

“Are- are you sure about this?” Armand says, even as Isteval presses him against the wall and pushes a knee between his legs and fumbles at all the little buttons. He pants and clutches at the front of Isteval’s shirt, gasping when Isteval rubs his beard along the too-sensitive skin of his neck and dropping his head against the wall, baring himself further. 

“Hmm?” 

“Are- are you sure about this,” he says, pushing Isteval away. Not hard. Not too far. But he needs to hear it. He needs space to breathe.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life,” Isteval says, and Armand laughs.

“Flatterer.”

Isteval’s thumbs gently rub Armand’s hands still holding his shirt. Whatever Isteval sees on his face next makes him stroke Armand’s cheek with the backs of his fingers, a frown marring his handsome brow, and Armand wants to go back to a minute ago, when they were kissing and Isteval wasn’t plagued by Armand’s worries. “What’s wrong? Talk to me.”

Armand takes a deep breath. When he opens his eyes again Isteval is still looking at him, a concerned look on his face. It really shouldn’t be this difficult. He takes Isteval’s hands.

“I- I just. What happens in the morning?” he says. He holds still as Isteval looks at him. Whatever happens, he won’t flinch. 

“Well,” Isteval says, pressing a hand to Armand’s cheek. “I was hoping to have you over for breakfast.” He laughs when Armand’s eyes widen. “Do you want me to say it? I’ll say it. I’ve been curious about you since I saw you for the first time in that meeting hall. Since- since you offered me your kindness in Daggerford.”

Isteval pulls one of his hands away and presses it to Armand’s burning cheek.

“I’m absolutely enthralled by you,” he says. He bites his lip, just the tiniest flash of teeth, and then- “May I kiss you? 

Isteval smiles as Armand looks at him, his hand still resting gently on his cheek. Armand could almost laugh. 

“You may do anything you like,” Armand says. Isteval blushes and Armand has to laugh, now. 

  
  


He laughs as Isteval presses forward again, crushing him against the wall, Isteval’s mouth hot against his and Armand can feel him hard against his leg. He sighs into Isteval, Armand’s hands on his waist pulling him even closer, laughing as Isteval attacks his bared neck with a soft growl and pulls away just enough to give himself room to scrabble at the buttons. 

“Why did you wear something with so many buttons?” he says, and Armand laughs harder. 

“My apologies,” he says breathlessly, “a ravishing isn’t what I expected to happen tonight.” He feels Isteval buck against him at the word  _ ravishing _ and he laughs again. 

But the last button is slipped from its loop and there’s a momentary flash of triumph on Isteval’s face, and then Armand has to laugh again at the look of frustration he makes when Armand’s shirt is unwound to reveal the corset and shift underneath. 

And then he stops laughing as Isteval’s face softens and he puts a gentle hand on Armand’s chest, and runs the backs of his fingers over the boning.

“You should be flattered,” Armand says, trying to joke, “this is the nice corset. Hardly any hidden knives at all.” 

“Do you ever sleep easily?” Isteval says, looking up from the silver embroidery. 

“No,” he says, because why lie? And Isteval straightens and presses him against the wall, the length of his body hot against Armand’s, and kisses him so sweetly he steals Armand’s breath away; Isteval reaches up and gently tugs the pins out of Armand’s hair and sends it in a wave down his shoulders. He cups Armand’s face in his hands and kisses him again and again, each sweeter than the last, on his eyelids, his cheeks, his lips, and Armand is helpless to do anything but hang on.

When Isteval pulls away to breathe Armand snatches one last kiss on the corner of his mouth, and runs his hands down Isteval’s chest. “You can leave the corset to me,” he says, laughing again, “and take care of this.” He scrambles to undo the laces of his own shirt as Armand works through his corset, and takes a deep breath.

Somewhere between his shirt and his undershirt Isteval gets his nerve back and he takes Armand’s hand, and he has to deal with the remaining laces with the other as Isteval smiles at him and pulls him to the bed. Somehow, he gets it off. The shift he leaves on for now. Their pants, thank goodness, are less of an ordeal; Isteval pushes him back onto a firm mattress and plush pillows, his own shirt hanging open to frame a strong chest and a thin carpet of hair, and undoes the laces of Armand’s pants with his teeth. Isteval  _ winks,  _ when Armand props himself up on his elbows to look. 

The next minute he spends cursing his mistake of seeking solace in the crook of his elbow; he feels Isteval slide his pants off his legs, followed by his underwear. His body is reduced to the white-hot trail of kisses Isteval leaves up his thighs before he presses his mouth between Armand’s folds and nips gently, and it’s a mercy that Isteval pinned his legs down as Armand bucks and tries to squirm. Isteval chuckles and he feels it in his core, and he holds Armand down with arms like steel bands as he licks a long stripe up his slit. Armand’s toes curl and he makes noises he’ll be embarrassed of later as Isteval takes him apart with his tongue.

The bed shifts with Isteval’s weight as he moves up over Armand, coaxing his mouth open and letting him taste himself on Isteval’s tongue. His beard is wet with Armand’s slick and he feels the heat pool in his belly at the thought of that, of Isteval between his legs doing- Isteval catches his hands and pins them above his head, away from his face.

“You’re very cute,” Isteval says, grinning, and Armand closes his eyes and takes a shuddering breath.

“ _ Flatterer _ ,” he says, and gasps as Isteval presses down, bare skin against bare skin. Isteval reaches down between them and drags his fingers through Armand’s folds, chuckling as Armand writhes. Isteval squeezes and then lets go of Armand’s hands and he keeps them there, submitting, he wants to submit, he wants Isteval to slide his hand under Armand’s shift and cup a breast with that strong hand and- “ _ Oh-”  _

He takes it back, he wants the bed to swallow him whole, anything to escape Isteval’s talented fingers pumping him and squeezing and making those obscene noises- A hysterical laugh bubbles out of him as he imagines suddenly appearing in the temple of Sehanine, Isteval’s hand still buried in his cunt, and Isteval pulls away from kissing him enough to look at him. 

“You’re miles away,” he says with a small smile, and presses his mouth to Armand’s cheek, and Armand has to laugh. 

“Sorry, sorry,” he says. Isteval lets him pull his hair out of its tie and it falls in a dark curtain around his face, and Armand pulls him in. “I’m here. I’m all yours.”

“You’re very quick to say so,” Isteval says between kisses, and moves down to suck a bruise onto Armand’s throat. “Say it again when we’re not making love.”

He tries to stifle the gasp. Isteval pulls his hand out and Armand clenches down on nothing, and then he’s pressing the head of his cock against his entrance and Armand has to cover his face with his hands now, this is too much- and Isteval goes still and puts a hand on his cheek, and kisses the back of his hands, and Armand presses his hands harder against his face. Too much. 

“Armand,” he says. “Sweetheart, look at me?”  _ Sweetheart.  _

“Sorry,” he says. “I-”

“We don’t have to do this now.” 

“No, I-” there are words. “I- I want this.” Was that so hard? 

“Will you let me see your face?” 

He lowers his hands and puts them on the too-soft sheets (Is he going to tear them? oh no) and Isteval is there, smiling at him and smoothing his hair back from his face. 

“Say it again,” Isteval says. And- ah. He’s a terrible man. 

“I want you,” Armand says, laughing. “Lonely Mother help me, I want you.” Isteval laughs, too, and leans down and kisses under Armand’s mouth. 

“The first time I saw you, your face sparkled with all the gold it carried,” he says, and Armand feels his muscles bunch. 

“It’s my face and I’ll do what- AH!” 

“Did I hurt you?” Isteval says, stilling again, face pinched with worry, and Armand clutches at this ridiculous man’s shoulders and tries to meet his hips, anything, the tip is in and he’s already so hot and wet for the rest of it,  _ Isteval- _ and he buries his face in Armand’s neck and finally, finally starts to push in slowly. He gasps, when he’s fully sheathed inside Armand. 

Isteval runs a thumb over the pinprick holes in Armand's face. He’s not wearing nearly as much right now, just the ears. It’s his face, no matter what his mother says. But Isteval has started to thrust gently, slowly, and Armand has no breath to think of anything but clutching at him and holding on. 

In his fantasies there had never been a face nor a personality, just a body taking him over and over. Had he ever dreamed of a man like this? It’s possible. Isteval is hot and solid and perfect inside him and above him and all around him, and he kisses Armand as the wave of his orgasm crashes over him, and Armand shakes apart in his arms.

Isteval raises his legs higher and it changes the angle and Armand  _ wails _ into the back of his hand, and Isteval kisses him with his palm between them and has Armand ever been held this gently? Isteval thrusts and thrusts and brings Armand to the brink of another orgasm, and then he’s pulling out and coming across Armand’s thighs and Armand sighs even as he shakes in the sheets. And then cries out; Isteval’s fingers replace his cock and send him right over the edge with Isteval, and finally the man relents.

Isteval falls to the side, leaving a leg draped over Armand’s, and he wipes his hand on his own hip. He licks a finger as if out of curiosity, and then Armand laughs as he makes a face. The two of them lie there, content to get their breaths back in the companionable silence, until Isteval gets up and comes back with a basin and a cloth and wipes his cooling come off Armand’s skin. 

Armand sits up and Isteval startles a little, and he puts his hand on Armand’s thigh as if to keep him there. Well- he didn’t really have a plan. Just didn’t feel right lying there. Isteval smiles sweetly at him again and pecks him on the cheek, and goes to put the basin away. Armand pulls his legs up, wrapping his arms around them, and watches Isteval go. 

He has scars on his back, as expected of someone who’s lived this long. Not a lot. Fairly clean healing. Still muscular, and wonderfully soft around the middle. He’s beautiful. Armand wants him back already, wants to map Isteval’s skin with his hands, wants to discover all the little secrets. Wonders if Isteval would let him. Wonders if he should leave. Wonders if he was expecting Armand to have a cock, if he ever imagined- Isteval turns back around and suddenly something else is in view, and Isteval laughs.

“You were staring,” he says. Armand lowers his eyes to the covers. They’re very smooth. Isteval is there, sitting beside him, stroking Armand’s cheek with the backs of his fingers. “What’s on your mind?”

“You’re very handsome,” he says instead, and Isteval laughs.

“I’m glad you think so,” Isteval says. “I don’t know what I’d do with myself if you thought me unattractive.” He runs his fingers through Armand’s hair, twirling a lock of it thoughtfully. He kisses it, looking at Armand as he does, which- makes Armand shiver. Isteval grins and pushes him down, again, back down among the soft sheets and the soft pillows, and straddles him. “Have you recovered?” he says, “because I’d like to eat you out until you scream.” Armand laughs and hits him with a pillow.

Tomorrow. Someday soon, they’ll have to talk about this. What Isteval wants. What this means, for them. Isteval, in particular, has responsibilities and destinies with no room for a soldier fated to die. Someday soon. They’ll talk. For now, the world consists of the two of them and Isteval’s bed.

**Author's Note:**

> “what happens in the morning” Armand you oblique bastard just ask him how serious he is about you, what could go wrong (everything, I have never in my life not been nor not written an oblique bastard.)


End file.
